She thought very little of the advantages to be derived from marriage with a man in Charlesbury’s position. Her experience of “a gentleman” in the person of Jim Aviolet had been calculated to destroy conventional illusions on that score, and the once magic words, “my lady,” had lost romantic value in her ears, since hearing them habitually applied to her mother-in-law.
She resumed her old life over the pawnshop very easily.
In the phraseology of Mr. Smith, an arrangement had been come to between himself and his niece with no display of false delicacy upon either side.
“They do give me an allowance,” Rose admitted, “but I can’t say I enjoy taking it, though well I know they can spare it. However, that’s neither here nor there. I don’t want you to be out of pocket, Uncle A., I’m sure, by having me here.”
“That’s common honesty, Rose,” her relative answered simply.
“At the same time, I suppose you don’t want to make out of me?” Rose suggested, not altogether without a hint of doubtfulness.
“I wish to do what is fair and proper by all parties, myself included,” said Uncle Alfred with dignity. “The room that you occupy could very well let at seven-and-sixpence a week, exclusive of light and heating.”
“There is no heating, Uncle A., as you very well know. I’m not likely to ask for a fire, and the girl wouldn’t carry the coals up all those stairs if I did, most likely. As for the light, I can buy my own candles, and I’ll pay one-fourth of the gas-bill. That’s fair enough, I should hope.”
“Very well,” her uncle agreed without enthusiasm.
“And if you’ll let me manage the housekeeping, I’ll undertake to bring the weekly books down and feed myself into the bargain. It doesn’t cost more to feed five than to feed four.”